Parenthood
by ElvenQueen18
Summary: Neil and Eva are assigned to work with a patient whose wish is for her and her husband to raise their son.
1. Prologue

**Author's Note:** This is my first proper case fic, and while I can't promise I'll live up to Kan's level of feels-ness and plot-twistiness, I certainly want to try. Another thing I can't promise is updating with any form of regularity—not only is my college semester starting next week, this fic is still a work in progress as far as plotting goes. I have a vague outline of where I want the fic to go, but I still need to work on the details.

This fic takes place after "A Secret No Longer Hidden," so there's some established Rosawatts.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _To the Moon_.

* * *

**Prologue**

Eva groaned softly as she woke up, blinking back sleep as she turned her head to the digital clock on her night table. _6:49_ it said in bright red. In just eleven minutes, she would need to get up, get ready for work, and drive over to Sigmund Corp. Headquarters and wait to learn about whatever patient she and Neil would have for today. The alarm was set to go off at seven, but she switched it off.

Not wanting to get up just yet, she turned over onto her side. It was still pretty dark—she guessed the sun wouldn't rise for another ten minutes or so—but she could still make out Neil, all stretched out on his back and sleeping beside her. A thrill shot through her body. In some ways, three months was enough time for her to get used to Neil being both her partner and her boyfriend, but she still hadn't gotten tired of the sight of him lying in the same bed as her.

Last night had been relatively quiet. Yesterday's patient—a man who'd wished to get back together with an old girlfriend—took all morning and most of the afternoon, but there'd been enough time in the evening for a home-cooked dinner rather than the fast food or hotel room service meals Eva and Neil often made do with during winter. He cooked some steak on the stove, she bantered with him about his choice to _not_ experiment with foreign cuisine for once, and they later settled on her couch to watch a marathon of _Doctor Who_ reruns.

After a few episodes, she'd found the doctor sitting next to her _far_ more interesting than the Doctor on her TV screen. They made out like hormonal teenagers, all heated kisses and roaming hands, and Neil eventually drifted off to sleep. Eva, wrapped in his embrace, followed suit shortly afterward.

It was well past midnight when she'd woken up, muscles sore from falling asleep on the couch. As romantic a notion as sleeping in your boyfriend's arms was, she knew getting some decent rest was necessary if she wanted to be functional for work in the next several hours. Thus, she carefully extracted herself from Neil's hold and got to her feet. He made a noise of protest, and she wondered if he was waking up (he'd always been a light sleeper), but all he did was resettle himself on the couch, his breathing low and steady.

She'd gone to her bedroom to sleep alone, but it was about an hour later when she became aware of Neil getting into bed with her. "Missed ya," he mumbled as he pulled her to him.

Eva came back to the present as Neil hummed and rolled onto his side to face her. "Hey," he greeted through a yawn, rubbing at his eyes.

"Hey yourself." She reached towards the night table to turn on the lamp and grab Neil's glasses, the latter of which she handed to him.

"What's the time?" he asked after putting his glasses on.

"Five till seven."

He hummed again, scooting closer to her and leaning in for a kiss. She met his lips with her own, running her hand through his hair. Her mouth opened for his, and as his tongue slowly glided with hers, something between a sigh and a moan escaped her. He took it as encouragement, sliding a hand up her thigh and causing her to gasp.

And then the mood was abruptly ruined by Eva's cell phone ringing. She and Neil jerked away from each other as if they'd been burned.

Neil groaned in annoyance as he sat up. "It just _had_ to be now, didn't it?"

"We'd have to get up soon anyway," Eva reminded him, sitting up as well and grabbing the phone off the night table. She pressed the Accept button and put the phone to her ear. "Hello."

"Dr. Rosalene," came the boss' voice. "I have a patient for you and Dr. Watts."

Before she could ask who the patient was, she felt Neil move her hair away from her neck. She started at his touch, then gave him a warning glance. Keeping her voice calm, she asked, "Who is it?"

"Faith Murray."

It took everything Eva had not to make a sound when Neil pressed his lips to the ear not covered by her phone. "And the address?"

Now he was placing feather-light kisses down her neck. While the boss told her where Faith Murray was living, Eva's breath involuntarily hitched as Neil pulled down the collar of her cotton pajama top and kissed the place where her neck and shoulder met.

"Thank you," she said (his lips were at her neck again, going up until they reached her jawline), hoping to God that her voice wasn't sounding too breathless or too high-pitched or too _anything_ that would make the boss think something was going on. "I'll call Neil and we'll be there soon."

Eva ended the call just as Neil decided to stop his mischief. She turned to glare at her frustratingly incorrigible boyfriend, who was looking entirely too pleased with himself.

"What the carrot was that all about?" she demanded.

The grin on his face only got bigger. "Like I need an excuse to kiss you. Besides, I didn't hear any complaining two minutes ago."

She shook her head in exasperation. "For pineapple's sake, Neil, do you _want_ the boss to know we're dating?"

Even as she asked it, she didn't know if her question was rhetorical or not. When they first got together, she'd insisted that they abided by certain rules when it came to the workplace, at least for a while. Rule number one was, "Don't tell anyone at work—especially not the boss." The gossip surrounding their relationship would only get more annoying—and considering that there'd been rumors about them sleeping together for years, _that_ was saying something—if any of their colleagues found out, and if the boss knew, he would assign them a couples therapist to make sure their relationship wasn't interfering with their job. They even went as far as continuing to drive in their separate cars to and from work and home to keep themselves above suspicion.

Rule number two was, "Don't get touchy-feely while working," and it was that particular rule that Neil apparently found impossible to follow. Eva had already lost count of how many times he'd done things like kiss her in one of their offices or stroke her leg under the table during a work conference. No matter how much she chided him for it, he seemed to think that it was okay as long as no one actually saw anything.

All that to say, Neil had never bothered to hide his opinion on therapy—namely that it was a total waste of time—and Eva knew he wasn't stupid enough to tell a fellow Sigmund Corp. agent that they were together (at least in so many words), all second-rule-breaking aside. So why on Earth would he risk the boss finding out?

He answered her with another question. "What? Are private displays of affection off-limits now?"

"If it's possible for the boss to hear us, they are!" She exhaled sharply. "But we really don't have time for this. We've got a patient to work with."

Neil let out a dramatic, long-suffering sigh as he got out of bed. "Duty calls, I guess."

Eva just rolled her eyes. Honestly, this was probably why she held off on taking that next step for so long. Forget how a breakup could potentially ruin everything they were to each other—the _real_ reason was that, if Neil had it his way, they'd never get any work done.

* * *

As it was, it was over forty-five minutes before they were ready to leave Eva's apartment. They had to shower, get dressed, groom themselves, and have a quick breakfast, and Eva also made sure Neil wouldn't forget to take his painkillers with him ("You got your pills, right?" "Eva, I _never_ leave home without 'em"). After driving to headquarters to get their equipment, they were finally on their way.

A little under an hour later, Eva and Neil arrived at their destination. Faith Murray's house was a small, white building with a gray-tiled roof, surrounded by bushes and overlooked by an oak tree. Eva shivered from the cold morning air as she and Neil got out of the company car, and she waited for him to get the briefcase from the trunk before they began walking up a set of stairs that led to the front door.

"It's been a while since we had a lady patient," Neil commented.

Eva turned to him with a raised eyebrow. "Dare I ask what your point is?"

"My _point_, doll, is if we get another old bat who wants to see her dog again, I'm leaving."

"Neil!"

"Oh, don't 'Neil' me. Even you thought Erica Alders' wish was stupid."

"I'm not even going to dignify that with a response."

"You just did," Neil pointed out, smirking.

Eva's only reply to _that_ was to turn away from him and ring the doorbell.


	2. Act 1

**Author's Note:** See if you can spot the 1980s _Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles_ cartoon reference I make in this chapter.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own "Bad Boys," AKA the _Cops_ theme song.

* * *

**Act 1**

A sandy-haired, middle-aged woman—probably in her forties, if Neil had to guess—opened the door. "Hello. Are you from Sigmund Corp.?"

"We are," Eva told her. "I'm Dr. Rosalene, and he's Dr. Watts. We're here to see Faith."

The woman nodded. "I'm Bess, Faith's caretaker. Come on in; she's in her room with her doctor."

Neil barely looked around as he and Eva followed Bess through a hall and past the dining room. _I swear, this thing gets heavier with every patient,_ he thought, tightening his hold on the briefcase. Thankfully, the walk to Faith's bedroom was a very short one, and once they were there, Neil set the briefcase down on the tan-colored carpet.

"Dr. Goldstein," Bess said to the M.D. standing by the unconscious Faith's bedside, "Drs. Rosalene and Watts from Sigmund Corp. have just arrived."

"Thank you, Bess." Goldstein, a thin, serious-faced man with graying dark hair, turned his gaze to Neil and Eva. "I estimate that Faith has only a couple of days left. I suggest you do the memory-altering procedure as quickly as you can."

"That _is_ what they pay us for," Neil quipped, ignoring the "don't get cute, Neil" look Eva shot at him.

While Goldstein checked on Faith's vitals on the ECG next to her bed and Bess went to fetch an extra chair, Neil and Eva got the memory machine ready. Within minutes, the machine was on and set on a small table, Neil and Eva's login info was inputted into the software, and Faith was wearing a helmet connecting her to the machine.

At present, Eva was seated in front of the machine, her helmet in her lap. "Before we get started, can you tell us a little about our client?" she asked Bess.

"Faith tends to keep a lot to herself," Bess replied. "I can tell you that she worked as a police officer—something she said was her vocation—before becoming an elementary school teacher, but I couldn't tell you why she decided to change careers. I once asked her why she'd leave police work if she thought it was her calling, and all she said was that she supposed teaching called her a little louder."

Neil, standing next to Eva, hummed. "So she went from being a badass cop to taking on the unenviable task of filling kids' heads with facts and figures?" That sounded weird, to say the least. Sure, it wasn't unheard of for an ex-police officer to go into teaching, but that usually meant teaching criminal justice or law enforcement at a college. Neil had never heard of someone who quit a police force to work at a grade school.

"I'm sure we'll know her reasoning sooner or later," Eva said before turning her attention back to Bess. "Do you at least know what Faith's wish is?"

It was Goldstein who answered her. "She wishes that she and her husband could raise their son."

Neil's only response to that was a shrug. It was another corny domestic wish—the third one this week—but at least Faith Murray had the decency to not have her wish be about a dog, so he'd take what he could get.

Bess looked at Goldstein in surprise. "I didn't know Faith and Daniel ever had any children."

"She didn't give many details," Goldstein admitted. "All she would say was that she and Daniel had a son they were unable to care for."

"At any rate," Eva said, "now that we know her wish, we should get to work."

Goldstein nodded, and as he adjusted Faith's IV, Neil took Eva's hand in his and gave it a quick squeeze, the show of affection hidden by the table. As much as he knew it drove her crazy when he got physical while they were at headquarters or working with a patient, he honestly couldn't help touching her in moments like this. After ten years of not knowing for sure what her feelings for him were, it was incredible to finally know that, yes, Eva Rosalene loved him. Neil still hadn't gotten used to it and probably never would, and every stolen kiss and slipped-in caress was a reminder of how this wasn't some wild dream his brain was cooking up.

The fact that he found touching and kissing her in places where they could get caught _insanely_ exciting just happened to be a very nice bonus.

"See ya in a bit," Neil said, smiling.

He expected her to glare at him, or at least pull her hand away, but Eva just smiled back and said, "You, too."

He slowly let his hand drop before sitting down on a wooden dining room chair and putting on his helmet. If Neil ever had any doubts that some part of Eva also thought quasi-PDA was exciting, despite her rule-following good girl routine, then that smile of hers put them to rest.

* * *

Shortly after switching on their helmets, Eva and Neil found themselves standing in a slightly statical version of Faith's empty bedroom, complete with the neatly made queen-sized bed, the mahogany night table on the bed's left-hand side, and the matching dresser standing against the right wall. The medical equipment being used to keep Faith alive in the real world was conspicuous by its absence in the memory.

"So, Eva," Neil began after world-interaction was turned off, "before we resign ourselves to a day of all work and no play, whaddya say to checking out the new upgrades I've got for the character customisation?"

"Didn't you already resign yourself to a day of all work and no play with that 'duty calls' stuff?" Eva asked rhetorically. "And forget about it—we don't have time for you to have the system mess around with our looks."

"Aw, come on! I worked really hard on it!"

"No."

"Please?"

"_No_." Neil holding her hand earlier might have made Eva feel all warm and fuzzy inside, but if he thought that meant she was going to indulge his every whim, he had another thing coming.

"Oh, all right, all right." He turned away from her and started heading for the bedroom door.

Eva stared after Neil, her annoyance abruptly morphing into surprise. _Wait, that's it?_ He was letting the argument go? He was actually going to be mature for once?

After a few steps, he turned back to her and grinned widely. "I wanted to show you a new feature anyway!"

Of course he wasn't.

Eva opened her mouth, but whatever she was going to say died in her throat as Neil spread his arms out and exclaimed, "Feast your ears on this!"

From apparently nowhere, a very familiar Inner Circle song began to play. "_Bad boys, whatcha want, whatcha want, whatcha gonna do? When Sheriff John Brown come for you?_"

"Totally fitting for our client, right?" Neil beamed. "And there's plenty more where that came from—I implemented a whole soundtrack. That way, we've got something to listen to make the work go faster."

"Neil—"

"Your man's a genius, I know."

"My man's an _idiot_," Eva snapped over the chorus. "Downloading copyrighted music without the artist's permission is illegal, Neil! You could be up to your neck in fines and face five years in jail!"

Neil shrugged. "I'm not the first person to pirate songs, Eva, and I sure as hell won't be the last."

Eva would have dearly loved to say that that wasn't the point, but they'd already wasted enough time on Neil's antics. Continuing to argue with him wouldn't get their job done any quicker. Therefore, the only thing she said was, "Just turn it off and let's go find Faith."

Thankfully, Neil complied easily enough; the song was almost at the end of its first verse when he turned off the soundtrack feature. They went out into the white-tiled, black-patched hallway and headed right to find Faith in the less black-patched dining room. With rays of early afternoon sunlight streaming in through the large window nearby, the eighty-three-year-old woman sat at the dining room table, nursing a cup of tea.

Once entity-interaction was turned on, Eva and Neil approached their client. "Faith?" Eva called out.

Faith set her gaze on Eva and Neil, observing them from behind a pair of reading glasses. "I never heard you come into my house," she said, her frail voice sounding impassive. "Either you two are intruders disguised as doctors, or you're from Sigmund Corp. and here to fulfill my wish."

"We're the latter," Eva informed her. "My name is Dr. Eva Rosalene, and this is—"

"Your friendly neighbourhood rat catcher," Neil interrupted.

"Dr. Neil Watts," Eva finished with a roll of her eyes. "Listen, Faith, what we'll be doing is traversing through your memories, from the most recent to the earliest. Once your timeline is connected, we'll be able to transfer your desire to raise your son with your husband to your younger self."

"And when that's done," Neil put in, "you'll be living your life all over again, wish-granted-style."

Faith nodded slowly, setting her teacup down on the table. "I see."

"I assume that we'll have your full cooperation during the mission?" Eva asked.

"Of course. As long as you can bring Warren back to me and Daniel, I'll help in any way I can."

"Good." After a save was run on Faith's state, Eva continued. "We actually need your help right now. In order to travel through memories, we need a memento, an item of importance to you that connects one memory to the next. Do you have anything like that we can use?"

Faith nodded again, then took off a golden cross necklace and placed it on the table, pushing it towards Eva and Neil.

"That'll do," Eva decided.

* * *

One preparation and activation process later, Neil and Eva (with world-interaction disabled, naturally) appeared inside a van, sitting in the backseat. A faded Bess drove with a bouquet of flowers in her lap, while Faith sat in the passenger seat. From the rear view mirror on Faith's side of the car, Neil could see the thin gold chain of the cross necklace around the old woman's throat.

Bess was the one to break the silence. "So, you really signed a contract with Sigmund Corp., huh?"

"I did," Faith said.

"May I ask why? I mean, people turn to those agencies because they wish for something they didn't get in their real life. So...what is it?"

Faith turned her head slightly to look out her window. "Something I've wanted for a very long time." She didn't elaborate.

After a momentary pause, Bess spoke up. "Well, anyway, we'll be at the cemetery soon."

Faith stayed silent, and a memory link appeared. One down, three more to go, according to the scan.

"Well, _that_ answer was as clear as mud," Neil remarked.

Eva shrugged. "It's not surprising after what Bess told us. And at least we know what Faith's wish is without having to jump through a bunch of hoops first."

Soon enough, Faith and Bess got out of the van, and Neil and Eva followed them from a parking lot to a graveyard. The second memory link appeared the instant Neil and Eva stepped foot onto the cut green grass. A handful of static people were present—a few were cleaning gravestones, two were trimming trees and bushes, and some others were visiting graves. Faith and Bess stopped at a brown gravestone, and Neil and Eva stood off to the side.

"Hi, Daniel," Bess said. She bent down to rest the flowers—which Neil now noticed were yellow calla lilies, red gladiolas, and white carnations—before the gravestone. "It's been a while."

Faith stared at the gravestone for a moment before speaking. "I did it, Daniel. I signed up for Sigmund Corp.'s service. I know you were against the idea, but..." She took hold of the cross pendant, covering it with her fingers, and closed her gray eyes. "I can't stand not knowing. I hope you can understand that now."

Bess looked at Faith questioningly, but didn't say anything. The third memory link appeared, and the final memory link was found within Daniel's gravestone ("Congratulations, Eva—we stumbled upon the only non-grey tombstone in this entire graveyard," Neil said).

The memento turned out to be the flowers. After breaking its barrier, the memento was prepared and activated, and Neil and Eva were off to the next memory.

* * *

The first thing Eva noticed was that the calla lilies, gladiolas, and carnations were planted in the soil of a small, rosary-shaped garden.

The second thing Eva noticed was a little girl—about seven, she thought—with straight, shoulder-length, dark brown hair and wearing a navy blue jumper over a white collared shirt. The girl stood in the grass among a group of two dozen static figures of other girls her age, looking attentively at a static woman in a black habit and veil who was standing behind a stone bench in the middle of the garden.

Eva frowned. The girl was obviously Faith, but how could she and Neil have jumped so far into their patient's memories?

Neil was openly gaping. "I don't believe it! Faith's pulling a Colin on us!"

"We don't know that," Eva said quickly. "With Colin, we at least cleared through the most recent life stage before the memories started going back and forth from the latest to the earliest. Why are we at Faith's childhood after only two memories?"

"Hell if I know."

"The machine could be malfunctioning. Would you mind going back for a second to check on it?"

Neil furrowed his brow. "Just because her memory pattern's wonky doesn't mean there's something wrong with the machine."

"We can't automatically assume that Faith's case is exactly like Colin's, though."

"Well, if it turns out we have another imaginary friend turned pissed-off AI to deal with, I'd say that'd be a pretty safe bet."

Eva let out an irritable sigh; he wasn't taking this seriously. "Look, Neil, are you going to check on the machine or not?"

"You keep saying that we don't have time for anything besides the job. Me popping back into the real world ain't exactly the opposite of time-wasting by your definition."

"It won't matter what we do or don't have time for if the machine isn't working right. Come on, Neil—do it for me."

He momentarily paused; she imagined he blinked from behind his glasses. "You've been just waiting to pull that card, haven't you?"

"Will it work?"

He paused again, then sighed in resignation. "Yeah, but only 'cause it's you. Be back in a flash." With that said, Neil logged out of the machine, disappearing from the memory.

True to his word, it wasn't long before Neil returned. "Nothing."

"Really?" Eva asked.

"Really," he confirmed. "No missing cables, the software's running fine, it's all good."

"Except for Faith's memory pattern." Eva spared a glance at the child version of their client. "I guess the only thing left to do is look around."

For the moment, Eva and Neil stayed in the garden to watch this particular memory play out. "There are quite a few reasons why we pray to God," the nun told the girls. "It's a way for us to say sorry for the things we do wrong. In prayer, we can come to our Heavenly Father whenever we have worries or concerns, and we can always ask Him for His help and guidance. I would like each of you to take a moment to reflect on what prayers you have for God today."

Closing her eyes, Faith bowed her head, and the rest of the girls did the same. After a brief silence, the nun spoke again. "Now, let us say the Our Father together." She bowed her head and folded her hands in prayer, Faith and her class following suit.

"Our Father who art in heaven," they recited, "hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our supersubstantial bread. And forgive us our debts, as we also forgive our debtors. And lead us not into temptation. But deliver us from evil. Amen." And with that, the first memory link was acquired.

"I'm getting some serious Ringwraith vibes from that nun over there," Neil said.

"A Ringwraith would be a lot more frightening," Eva pointed out, "and I doubt they'd be preaching Catholic sermons."

"So you don't think she'll be asking where Baggins is any time soon?"

"Probably not." Eva looked at the black static that passed as the nun's face. "Still, I see what you mean. Faith remembering the clothes she wore but not her face isn't doing the nun any favors."

With one part of the memory done with, Eva and Neil left the prayer garden and walked from the back to the front of Faith's school, a long, low building made of gray brick and topped with a dark blue roof. To the right of the school was a dormitory, and a small store could be seen in the distance, facing the school from across a street. For now, Eva and Neil's attention was on Faith as she and her class played on the playground, a static nun—whether it was the same nun from the garden, Eva didn't know—watching them.

While a few of the girls were swinging on a swing set and others were taking turns sliding down a couple of slides, Faith and two other girls were running around in the grass. Faith caught up to one who had run towards the slides and lifted her hand to touch the other girl's statical arm, but the latter darted out of her reach. Faith resumed chasing the girl and caught up to her again, this time succeeding in touching her arm.

"You're it!" Faith exclaimed, quickly running away from the girl she'd tagged as she laughed. The girl ignored Faith and ran after the third girl playing with them. Faith began hurrying back towards the slides, but soon lost her balance and fell face-first onto the grass with a startled yelp.

"Faith, be careful!" the nun admonished. "Don't get grass stains on your uniform!"

"Yes, Sister Nina!" Faith called as she got to her feet.

"Some priorities she's got," Neil deadpanned once they got the second memory link. "And I don't mean our client."

Eva just hummed in response.

"How much do you wanna bet that we'll be seeing a nun go after a kid with a ruler?"

"How about we skip the bet and keep moving?" Without waiting for an answer, Eva headed towards the school, and she heard Neil trail behind her after a couple of seconds. Once inside, they went down a hallway, passing quite a few closed doors and a bulletin board before they came across an open door to a classroom.

Eva and Neil walked into the doorway to find Faith sitting at a small wooden desk in the first row, an open Bible in front of her. Similar to the prayer garden memory, she and her class listened as a nun spoke.

"One day," the nun was saying, "Jesus was teaching His disciples about marriage and divorce and how God wanted people to have happy homes. A large crowd of people had gathered to hear what Jesus had to say, and some started to bring their children to Him so He could touch them and pray for them. But the disciples didn't like these children interrupting Jesus, so they told the people to get the children away. Does anyone know how Jesus reacted when He saw this happening?"

"He got upset," Faith answered.

"That's correct, Faith. Please read Mark ten fourteen out loud for us."

Faith looked down at her Bible. "Whom when Jesus saw, he was much displeased, and saith to them: Suffer the little children to come unto me, and forbid them not; for of such is the kingdom of God."

The nun nodded. "This passage tells us that Jesus has regard for the smallest and most vulnerable of people. Sometimes important people only take time to talk with other people considered important. Jesus was the most important person to ever live, and He talked to children because He thought they were important, too."

With the third memory link in hand, Eva and Neil continued down the hall. After passing some more closed doors—including one tucked into a corner that required four memory links to unlock—they reached another open classroom. The only occupants were Faith and a faded, slightly older-looking girl with curly hair the same dark brown as Faith's and wearing the same uniform. The older girl sat at a desk, her hand resting on the desktop, while Faith stood beside her.

"Shouldn't you be in your dorm or something?" the older girl asked flatly, not taking her brown eyes off of her bruised knuckles.

Faith huffed. "I'm allowed to see my sister, y'know."

"Even when I'm in detention?" The older girl finally looked up at Faith with a dubious expression. "Does Sister Carol know where you are?"

"I told her I wanted to talk to Sister Hannah about a question I had about some homework."

Faith's sister sighed, shaking her head. "Well, if you _must_ know, sitting here with nothing to do has got me bored out of my skull. Sister Annie shouldn't have bothered with rapping my knuckles—this total _nothingness_ is punishment enough!"

"If it's so bad, then maybe skipping class to go to the dollar store wasn't your best idea."

"Sheesh, Faith, could you sound more like Dad?" The older girl rolled her eyes.

Faith furrowed her brow slightly at the question. After a brief pause, she asked, "Why'd you want to go there, anyway, Marissa?"

"I just wanted to take a look at their jewelry. It's not like I was gonna steal anything." Marissa's face brightened. "Though I would've killed to get this one bracelet they had. You should've _seen_ it—it was golden and dangling with diamonds and rubies and sapphires and emeralds!"

"So it'd be like a freakin' rainbow around her wrist." Eva could practically hear the eye-roll in Neil's voice.

"It'd be like a rainbow around my wrist!"

Neil grinned. "Dang, I'm good."

"I wouldn't be proud to be thinking like an eight-year-old," Eva told him.

Faith was now frowning in confusion. "But wouldn't those stones be fake?"

"So what?" Marissa asked rhetorically, waving her hand in a dismissive gesture. "It'd still be pretty."

"I guess." There was another small pause before Faith spoke again. "Do you think Mom knows by now?"

Marissa groaned. "Don't remind me. No doubt Sister Annie called Mom and told her all about it. Which means Mom's gonna call _me_ and I'll get the lecture of a lifetime!" When Faith didn't say anything, Marissa scowled. "You could at least _pretend_ to care about your poor sister's plight. Isn't that why you're here?"

"You could try to not get in trouble," Faith suggested. "That'll make your life easier."

"Easy for you to say, sister's pet."

"Come on, Rissa—you'll get expelled if you keep this up."

"Is that a promise?"

Faith said nothing to that, and Marissa returned her gaze to her bruised knuckles. "Look, you should go before Sister Carol wonders why you're taking so long."

"Rissa—" Faith began, reaching out to touch her sister's shoulder.

"Just go."

Faith withdrew her hand, staring unhappily at Marissa. The fourth memory link was collected, and Eva and Neil retraced their steps back to the door that was initially locked.

The room turned out to be a dining hall consisting of several long rows of small square tables with four chairs per table. Eva and Neil made their way across the hall, past groups of two, three, or four girls eating lunch together, to find Faith sitting by herself at a table in the last row. A plate with breadcrumbs and a half-eaten apple, as well as a drink in a clear plastic cup, was set in front of Faith, and off to the side of her lunch was a sheet of paper and a pencil.

Faith took a quick sip of her drink before grabbing the pencil and writing something down. As she and Neil got closer to their patient's child self, Eva glanced at the paper—it looked to be homework of some kind, although Faith's handwriting was blurred. After a moment, Faith put down the pencil to take a couple of bites from her apple, and then resumed writing.

Neil poked the paper, causing the last memory link to materialize. "What kind of kid eats and does homework at the same time?"

"The studious kind, obviously," Eva said. She tried to touch Faith's drink, only to be stopped by a barrier. _A memento—good._ At least there was a way out of this memory.

Neil made a face as he eyed the orange liquid and ice cubes in the cup. "Does the studious kind of kid drink iced tea, too?"

"I'm more worried about where the iced tea is going to take us." Maybe Neil was right about this case being like Colin's and they'd end up back in the more recent memories, but there was always the chance that the next memory would be another childhood one. Or, heck, the memory pattern might throw them a curveball and Eva and Neil would be in Faith's middle-age or teen memories.

As she broke the memento's barrier, the only thought in Eva's head was, _There's only one way to find out._

* * *

They were back in Faith's dining room, bright sunshine and all. The cup of iced tea shared the table with another cup of iced tea (_someone_ clearly liked iced tea—Neil's opinion of Faith had to go down a notch just for that), but both drinks had been apparently forgotten. At present, the elderly Faith was standing at the table with an old, lanky-built man—probably Daniel, if his lack of static or fadedness was any indication—standing opposite her.

"And we're back to old age," Neil said. "So far, so Colin."

"Looks like it," Eva replied, her voice neutral as she watched the memory in front of them.

Daniel had his hands pressed onto the tabletop, and he was staring at Faith in disbelief. He slowly shook his head. "I just don't understand."

"I wish we'd raised our son," Faith said simply. "What's so hard to understand about that?"

"Wishing things could've been different is one thing. Deciding to hire Sigmund Corp.—"

"I never said I'd decided to hire Sigmund Corp.," Faith interrupted, her voice now sounding defensive. "All I said was that I was considering it."

"But _why_? Why would you ever think changing your memories would be a good idea?"

"Maybe I don't want to spend my last moments brooding over everything we missed out on!" Faith snapped, glaring at her husband. "Is wanting to die happy really such a crime?"

"Damn it, Faith, you'd only be made to _think_ you're dying happy!" Daniel glared back, and a moment of angry silence passed.

At length, Faith broke the stare down, lowering her head as she sank into her chair. "I thought you would understand, Daniel," she said quietly.

"I understand that you once told me we had to let Warren go."

Faith looked back up at Daniel. "And you can't tell me you never wanted to change your own memories."

Daniel flinched at Faith's words, and it did not go unnoticed by Neil—she'd apparently touched a nerve. _Huh; this suddenly just got more interesting._

There was another moment of silence as Daniel stepped over to Faith. Once he was behind her chair, he placed a hand on her shoulder, and she put her hand over his.

"Even if Sigmund Corp. grants your wish," Daniel said, his voice now soft, "it won't really change anything."

"I know. Still..." Faith's voice trailed off as she stared into space, blinking rapidly.

"So what do you think Faith meant by Daniel wanting to change his own memories?" Neil asked Eva after they got the first memory link. "Which is totally hypocritical of him, by the way."

Eva just shrugged. "Maybe it has something to do with Faith's wish. Maybe it doesn't. Does it really matter? Daniel's not our client."

"How did I know you were gonna say that?"

She didn't answer. Before long, they found the two remaining memory links within Faith and Daniel's iced teas.

Neil grunted in disgust. "Seriously, what in the name of all that's piping hot possessed these people to stick ice in tea?"

Eva scowled at him. "Quit being a tea snob and help me find a memento."

Right next to the dining room was a combined living room and kitchen area, with the two spaces being separated by a bar. There was nothing terribly interesting in the living room—the flat-screen TV was off, no one was sitting on the couch or in the two recliners, and the coffee table was covered with random books and magazines that apparently weren't important enough to be memory links, let alone mementos. The kitchen was similarly empty; the small round table in the breakfast nook was bare, the dishwasher wasn't running, and no one was helping themselves to whatever was in the pantry or refrigerator.

Placed on the kitchen counter was a utensil holder stuffed with spatulas and spoons of every conceivable material. One spoon in particular—a wooden one—turned out to be the memento Neil and Eva needed.

"I bet you a hundred bucks this takes us to another childhood memory," Neil said after the barrier was broken.

"And I already told you, we're not betting." So saying, Eva prepared and activated the memento.

* * *

Neil and Eva appeared in another kitchen, the sugary smell of freshly baked cookies in the air. At the counter, a faded, black-haired woman was stirring a bowl full of cookie dough with the wooden spoon. Standing next to her, using piping bags to squirt patterns of frosting onto cookies cooling on a tray, were Faith and Marissa—and both were children.

Neil turned to Eva with a wry grin. "What did I tell ya?"

Eva hummed. "Well, if we're going to be dealing with another decaying orbit pattern, at least we've got prior experience."

Figuring that was as close as he was going to get to hearing Eva admit he was right, Neil went on, his grin fading. "So what do you think is waiting for us at the center? Some crazy tragedy revolving around why Faith and Daniel couldn't raise their kid?"

"Possibly," Eva said. "Whatever their reasons were, if they gave Warren up for adoption and then never saw him again, the regret obviously ran very deep for Faith."

"Rissa, that's too much!" Faith exclaimed before Neil could respond. He returned his attention to the memory in time to see that Marissa had gotten a big glob of red icing on a snowman-shaped cookie. "You're wasting it!"

"Hey, stop backseat frosting!" Marissa protested. "There's no such thing as too much!"

"Girls, no arguing on Christmas," the woman chided, looking up from the bowl to give Faith and Marissa a stern glare. "And Marissa," she added after glancing at the overly frosted cookie, "get a knife and scrape some of that frosting off."

"But _Mom_—" Marissa began.

"_Now_."

Marissa sulked, then set her bag down and trudged over to a silverware drawer next to the sink. As the older girl got out a knife and returned to the counter, Faith resumed carefully frosting the edges of a star-shaped cookie with green icing.

"At least you can save time on your next cookie," Faith said to Marissa. "You can just use the knife to frost it."

"Whatever," Marissa muttered as she started wiping the excess icing off the snowman cookie. The first memory link appeared, and Neil stepped closer to the counter to get a better look at the cookies.

As far as holiday treats went, the cookies were actually rather plain. None of them had been baked with red and green M&M's, and they weren't decorated with any Christmas-themed sprinkles. The only things separating these cookies from the average vanilla wafer were the festive shapes—not just stars and snowmen, but also Christmas trees, snowflakes, candles, and so on and so forth—and, of course, the green and red icing. Even so, after the _very_ light breakfast he and Eva had earlier this morning, Neil wasn't about to snub the snacks.

"A juvenile delinquent Faith's sister may be," he said, "but she's not wrong. There really is no such thing as too much frosting on Christmas cookies." One tap on a green-frosted cookie shaped like a bell yielded the second memory link. Neil reached out towards the cookie again, but Eva, who had apparently read his mind, grabbed his wrist before he could take it.

"You're _not_ making us reset," she told him firmly.

"Oh, come _on_!" Neil complained, attempting to shake her off. "I haven't eaten anything since, like, seven, and all that was was a slice of dry toast!"

Her hand was still tightly gripping his wrist. "Do you seriously believe Faith and her family won't freak out seeing a cookie float up and disappear one bite at a time?"

"Hey, you gotta take some risks when it comes to food. Or, y'know," he added, giving up on getting her to let go, "I could've disabled reactive interactivity just now."

A completely unimpressed expression crossed Eva's face; she didn't believe him for an instant. "Even if that's true—and I know it isn't—you know perfectly well that eating something in here doesn't actually do anything for you out there."

"It's the _principle_ of the thing!"

"Uh-huh." Without another word, Eva dragged Neil out of the kitchen ("_Eva_!" he whined; she ignored him), through a dining room, and into the threshold of a living room. Half a dozen stockings of various sizes (one large, one medium, three small, and one extra small) hung from the fireplace, and in the lower left-hand corner of the room was a Christmas tree decorated with popcorn balls and cranberry garlands. Faith's mother and a faded, brown-haired man—presumably Faith's father—sat in armchairs; the former had a faded, brown-haired toddler boy dozing on her lap.

Next to the tree stood Marissa and a faded, black-haired boy who looked to be about eleven. Marissa had a wooden doll in her hands, and the boy—Faith's older brother, most likely—was holding a baseball, but neither of them seemed that interested in their presents. Instead, both of them were gazing at the tree as though it was the only time they'd ever get to see one.

"Enjoy it while it lasts," their father told them. "You two are taking it down tomorrow this year."

"Yeah, Dad," the boy said, a bit absentmindedly. "We know."

Marissa grunted. "What's the point of having a Christmas tree if we only have it up for two days?" No one answered her.

Faith, in the meantime, was sitting on the floor a few feet away, tearing into a present wrapped in old newspaper and revealing a small box. She gasped when she saw what was inside and picked up the gift—the cross necklace—by its chain. She stared at it with wide eyes before looking over at her mother.

"Is this really mine?" Faith asked.

"Of course it is, Faith," her mother said, smiling. "I was your age when your grandmother gave it to me, and I think it's about time that necklace was passed on to you."

Faith beamed as she put the necklace on. "Thanks, Mom."

"You're welcome, dear."

It was only after they'd gotten the third memory link that Neil realized Eva was still holding his wrist. He smirked at her, waggling his eyebrows, and she quickly let go of him.

"You know, Eva," Neil teased, "if you wanted to touch me, all you had to do was ask."

She scoffed. "Oh, please. I just didn't want you running back to the kitchen."

"And here I thought you were having withdrawals."

"This coming from the man who can't go two minutes without kissing me."

Neil shrugged. "Never said otherwise."

The last two memory links were found within Faith's cross necklace and the Christmas tree. Incidentally, Neil and Eva did end up heading back into the kitchen, where the memento—a white dinner plate placed on a small counter next to the oven—was located. Within minutes, the memento was ready to take them to another memory.

* * *

Once again, Eva and Neil appeared in Faith's dining room. Unlike in the first and third most recent memories, where sunlight was pouring into the room, the window showed only the dark blue of the evening sky. A slightly less elderly-looking Faith (whose hair was more gray than the white it was now) sat at the table with Daniel and Bess, their plates filled with baked fish, white rice, and pieces of zucchini.

"Not that I'm _complaining_," Neil said in a voice that made it perfectly clear he was about to do just that, "but it'd be nice if we had some variety in where we end up. I mean, how many times are we going to be in this dining room?"

Eva let out a noncommittal hum, her attention on the memory playing out before them.

"I put your pills on the counter," Bess was telling Daniel. "Don't forget to take them."

Daniel grinned. "Yes, Mom. I'll get right on that after I've eaten all my fruits and vegetables." He made a show of stabbing a zucchini piece with his fork and biting into it.

"If you're going to make jokes," Faith said, her mouth set in a serious line, "you could at least be original."

Daniel's blue eyes widened in feigned shock as he swallowed. "Why, Faith, you wound me. You don't think I'm funny anymore?"

"We've only been married for forty-six years." Faith's lips now twitched upward, as if she was fighting back a smile. "I'm quite sure I've heard you say every joke in the book."

"Tough crowd," Daniel said, chuckling. He returned his attention to Bess. "At least _you_ think I'm funny, right, Bess?"

Bess took a bite of her rice. "Remember to take your pills and I might answer that question."

After the first memory link was collected, Eva and Neil left the dining room and walked into Faith's bedroom. Their client was polishing a black pistol with a small, square-shaped patch, taking no notice of Bess, who was standing beside her. On the bed, an open gun-cleaning kit and another black pistol were placed on an old beach towel.

"I wish you'd let me clean those for you," Bess said.

"Sorry, Bess," Faith replied, not taking her eyes off of her work, "but I'd rather do it. I may be getting on in years, but I can still handle a firearm."

"That won't always be the case, you know."

"Well," Faith finally turned her head to look at Bess, "when that day comes, I promise to entrust you with the care and keeping of our guns. Daniel will say the same thing. For now, though, I'd prefer to not make more work for you."

With that final word on the subject, the second memory link materialized. The last two memory links were contained in the kit and the cleaned pistol, and the memento was the pistol Faith was holding. It wasn't long before the memento was prepared and activated, sending Eva and Neil to their patient's next memory.

* * *

**Author's Note:** After almost a year of planning, researching, writing, and editing, the first chapter of "Parenthood" is _finally_ posted. Hallelujah!

Let me tell you—writing this chapter was 50% fun and 50% pain, and it probably won't be much different with future chapters. Some scenes basically wrote themselves (just about every conversation Neil and Eva have, for instance), and others I had to work on for several days before I was satisfied with them, or at least thought they were decent. I also had to figure out how to translate aspects of the games into a fanfic format. I decided to not bother with having Neil or Eva explore Faith's house because I thought it'd be too boring to read, and while I think having them take notes while going through Faith's memories would be neat, I doubt I could include it in a non-awkward way.

On a related topic, I didn't think I could ignore memory links and mementos, unlike house exploration and note-taking, so I tried to not be too repetitive with describing Neil and Eva getting the memory links and saying, "The memento was prepared and activated." Let me know what you thought about it, if it was okay or if I could do a better job in upcoming chapters.

For all you non-Catholic readers: the translation I used for the Bible verses is the Douay-Rheims Bible. Other translations like the Jerusalem Bible and New American Bible Revised Edition are more commonly used by Catholics nowadays, but the Douay-Rheims Bible is what English-speaking Catholics would've read eighty to ninety years ago.

I have no idea when the next chapter will be up; I think I'll be putting "Parenthood" on the backburner for a while and work on a couple of _To the Moon_ one-shots I've been toying with lately. Either way, I hope you've enjoyed the first chapter—feel free to tell me what you thought about it!


	3. Act 2

**Act 2**

"_Holy macaroni_!" was the first thing out of Neil's mouth once they appeared on the edge of a house's roof. Eva watched as he darted his gaze this way and that in a panic, seeing nothing but a cloudless blue sky and a long way down to the ground.

"When I said I wanted more variety in where we end up," Neil went on, his voice rising in volume, "_this is not what I meant_!"

Eva shook her head; she would never understand why he freaked out so much whenever this happened. "For the millionth time, jumping from a great height can't hurt you in here."

"Yeah," Neil snapped, turning to angrily furrow his brow at her, "try telling that to my amygdala!"

In any other situation, Eva would've thought Neil actually using a medical term like _amygdala_ in a sentence was kind of hot and responded with some flirtatious remark. In _this_ situation, however, she sighed and said, "Just calm down and let's get off the roof."

"Are you insane?!" he demanded incredulously. "I gotta _at least_ have a true love's hug before I risk getting killed!"

"I already told you, you're not—wait," Eva cut herself off as she fully registered what Neil just said, "what?" She stared at him with wide, disbelieving eyes.

"You heard me." He opened his arms. "Give me a hug and I'll agree to this suicide mission."

Eva grunted in frustration. "First of all, jumping off from a memory-constructed roof does not classify as a suicide mission. Second of all," she narrowed her eyes suspiciously, "you wouldn't be happening to use your acrophobia as an excuse to cop a feel, would you?"

"Of course not!" Neil said quickly. "Now, are we gonna argue all day or hug and move on?"

He did have a point, Eva had to admit. While the chances of Neil jumping at an opportunity to break their second workplace rule were very high, it was either give him what he wanted so they could get back to what they were supposed to be doing or stand here on this roof until Faith died. Obviously, the latter was not an option, so without another word, Eva stepped into Neil's embrace and wrapped her arms around him.

At once, he had his arms around her waist, and they stood like that for a brief moment...until Eva realized one of Neil's hands had wandered to her backside. She shoved him, breaking the hug and sending him falling from the roof with an indignant, "_Hey_!"

"Time and place, Neil!" she called before jumping down and landing next to him on the green grass of a front yard. Some feet away from them, the child version of Faith was standing beside her older brother. With his knees bent and his feet set shoulder width apart, the boy was holding the black pistol at arm's length with both hands, his finger on the trigger.

"Remind me again why we're not going to be shooting at cans?" Faith asked.

"Because a moving target's more fun, that's why. Like that snake over there." The boy nodded towards a yellow-on-black garter snake slithering in the grass. He lowered the gun and turned to grin at Faith. "I dare you to shoot it."

"Ben!" Faith protested, giving the snake a swift, frightened glance. "I'm not gonna shoot that thing! What if it bites me?"

Ben snorted. "Seriously, Faith? It's a _garter snake_; it can't kill you."

"Who cares? It's still creepy!"

"So you're saying you're too scared to shoot it?"

A red, angry flush came to Faith's face. "No, I'm not!"

"Then prove it," Ben said, handing her the gun.

"Fine, I will!" Faith snatched the pistol and mimicked her brother's initial stance, aiming the weapon at the snake still moving around. She fired several bullets into the reptile—mostly its body, but one bullet or two hit its tail. The snake wriggled wildly, blood trickling from its wounds, and Faith kept shooting until it lay motionless.

For a moment, she stared at the dead animal with a scowl, then her anger suddenly evaporated as her eyes widened, as though she just realized what she'd done. Faith's grip on the pistol went slack, causing it to fall to the grass, and the little girl burst into tears and ran towards the snake.

"Faith, what the heck?!" Ben exclaimed, looking bewilderedly at his distraught sister as she picked the snake up and cradled it in her hands like it was a newborn baby.

"What on Earth is going on out here?" Eva and Neil turned at the sound of Faith's mother's voice to see the woman had come outside and was hurrying from the front porch to her children. "You two are going to wake up Carl with all this racket!"

"Mom, Faith shot a snake and then decided to have a meltdown about it," Ben informed his mother.

"Only because you dared me!" Faith countered in between sniffles.

"Kids," their mother scolded, "what have we told you about using Dad's gun by yourselves?"

"T-to not do it," Faith said.

"Exactly. _Always_ have Dad with you if you want to shoot. You're still too young to handle guns on your own."

"_I'm_ not, but Faith obviously is," Ben muttered.

Their mother gave him a sharp look. "That's enough out of you, Benjamin. Now, grab the gun and let's go back inside. We'll discuss this more later."

Faith put the snake back down, a miserable expression still on her face.

"Oh, yeah, I can totally see why she became a cop," Neil said sarcastically once the first memory link was collected.

Eva frowned at him. "Don't be so hard on her—she was a kid."

"All I'm saying is that if this was supposed to show Faith being inspired to join the police force, it sucked at its job. Would she turn on the waterworks if some bad dude got to the 'shoot to kill' level?"

"Somehow, I highly doubt that."

The next two memory links were found within the pistol and Ben. Walking through the front yard to where Faith was standing earned Eva and Neil the fourth memory link, and the last one was acquired by touching the dead snake. Nearby, to the right of where the memory had taken place, was a flower garden with yellow calla lilies, red gladiolas, and white carnations in full bloom.

Just like in Faith's second most recent memory, these particular flowers served as a memento, which was quickly prepared and activated.

* * *

The calla lilies, gladiolas, and carnations took Eva and Neil to a small office, where the flowers were planted in a pot on a desk covered in office supplies: papers, a notepad, a coffee mug filled with pencils. On the wall behind the desk, several blank picture frames were hung, with a plain wooden cross in the center, and beneath the frames was a bookcase.

A static priest wearing a black cassock sat behind the desk, while the gray-haired Faith was sitting opposite him on a couch. Above the couch, a circular clock ticked.

"During your last confession," the priest was saying, "you said you were struggling with envy."

Faith nodded. "Yes, it started—or rather, began again—after Christmas Mass. Daniel and I were talking to Pam, and all she could talk about was her great-granddaughter. She was full of such good cheer about that little girl, and..." Faith paused, then sighed, shaking her head. "I don't know. I guess it reminded me of what we never had."

"You believe Pam's good fortune in having a family somehow tears you down?"

Faith smiled wanly. "It sounds childish, I know. And ungrateful. Goodness knows Daniel and I have had it better than some. But when I listened to Pam praise her great-granddaughter to the skies, I felt jealous. I wondered why that couldn't have been me."

"You aren't the only one who's had sinful thoughts," the priest assured her. "And you seem to know part of the solution to your problem: cultivate a spirit of gratitude for the things you do have."

"That can be hard to do when it feels like every other person in the world had their lives go the way they wanted."

"Nonetheless, you _do_ have blessings to thank God for. You and your husband are living in relative security and comfort, for one. You never have to worry about your next meal. You have access to medical care when you need it."

Faith nodded again, humming in agreement, but her face was now unreadable.

"Wrestling with an envious thought will only get you more entangled in it," the priest continued. "Learn to shift your attention whenever such thoughts arise. Pray a Hail Mary, or offer thanks to God for something. You can also pray for the grace of thinking well of others."

A moment of silence passed before Faith, her demeanor subdued, stood up from the couch. "Well, I'll try out your suggestions. Thank you for your time, Father."

The priest's voice was gentle as he spoke. "My door is always open, Faith."

The first memory link appeared, and Eva and Neil were quick to gather the rest: one from the cross on the wall, and two from a black leather-bound Bible and several Catholic texts sitting in the bookcase. The memento turned out to be the clock, and Eva had to stand on the couch to get close enough to prepare and activate it.

* * *

Once Eva and Neil had materialized into the next memory, they were greeted by the sound of the ticking clock and the sterile scent of cleaning products.

"Gotta love the smell of hospital in the morning," Neil deadpanned.

"Better antiseptic than vomit," Eva said, taking a quick glance around the room. It was a waiting area—cushioned chairs lined two of the four walls, with a couch against a third, and in the middle of the room was a table with a vase of wilted white roses. A teenaged Faith, who looked like she was fourteen or fifteen, sat in a chair on the right-hand side of the room, her preteen brother Carl sitting beside her. Opposite Faith and Carl, their graying father and a late teenaged Ben sat together on the couch, and a mid-teenaged Marissa was seated by herself.

"Mom's going to be all right, isn't she?" Carl asked, looking at Faith anxiously.

Faith bit her lip, then gave her brother a small smile. "The doctors will do everything they can."

"She means no," Marissa said.

"Marissa!" Faith scolded, shooting a glare at her.

"What?" A defensive expression crossed Marissa's face. "There's no point in beating around the bush. They've even got Father Maurice in there, and even _I_ know what that means."

"Nobody asked for your opinion," Ben snapped.

"That's enough," their father broke in, his voice steely. "Your mother has had a heart attack. Can you _please_ go five minutes without biting each other's heads off?"

None of the children made any reply, though Marissa pressed her lips together tightly. In the ensuing silence, Faith clutched at the cross pendant around her neck.

After a moment, the waiting area's door opened, revealing a static doctor in scrubs and a static priest—presumably Father Maurice—holding a Bible in one hand and a small wooden box in the other. As the doctor and priest stepped into the room, Faith dropped her hand and quickly stood from her chair. The rest of her family followed suit.

"I gave Madeline Last Rites," Father Maurice said, his voice solemn.

"She passed away just a few minutes ago," the doctor told them. "I'm sorry for your loss."

Faith's father and Ben remained still and silent upon hearing this. Carl's face crumpled and he began to sob. Blinking rapidly, as if fighting back tears herself, Faith wrapped an arm around Carl and pulled him into a side hug. Marissa bowed her head, her body trembling, and Eva heard her mutter something that sounded like, "What did I tell you?" before the first memory link appeared.

Father Maurice and his Bible and last rites box yielded the next three memory links, and the last one was collected from the roses ("Oh, good; I was wondering if there were other flowers she knew," Neil said). Soon enough, the memento—Faith's cross necklace—was found, prepared, and activated.

* * *

Eva and Neil appeared inside the foyer of a church, where numerous static people were either standing around and talking amongst themselves or walking out the front doors. The walls were decorated with holly wreaths and red banners, and a Christmas tree in the upper right-hand corner of the room was glittering with white lights.

In the middle of the foyer, the gray-haired Faith, the cross necklace glinting from its place around her throat, stood beside Daniel as they talked with who Eva had to assume was Pam, an old, white-haired static woman. Or rather, Faith and Daniel were being talked _at_ by Pam.

"I can't believe it's been almost five years—it feels like Raina was born just yesterday!" Pam was saying. "She'll be starting kindergarten in the fall, you know, and she's already reading easy readers. I told Phoebe and Ross that they ought to get Raina tested to see if she's gifted, but really, anyone with eyes can see how brilliant she is."

"That's nice," Faith said, but there was no conviction in her voice. She gripped the cross pendant, a gesture Eva was beginning to suspect was a nervous habit for Faith.

"Isn't it, though?" Pam asked rhetorically, oblivious to the other woman's less-than-enthusiastic response. "Raina's tall, too—four and a half inches taller than the average girl her age, in fact. She looks like she could be starting first grade. Oh! Have I told you that funny thing Raina said the other day? It was _such_ a hoot!"

"Careful there, Pam—next you'll be saying Raina hung the moon." Daniel's voice was light and his smile was pleasant, but his gaze briefly flickered to Faith, who had let go of the pendant and now seemed to be staring through Pam with a dispirited look on her face. He placed a hand on the small of his wife's back.

"Oh, of _course_ not," Pam said with a laugh. "No blasphemy intended—I'm just an old lady who's proud of her great-grandgirl."

"I'm going to light a candle," Faith abruptly cut in. "Excuse me." She turned her back on Pam, moving away from Daniel's touch, and headed to the left-hand side of the room. The first memory link was acquired, and Eva and Neil followed their client across the foyer, the second memory link materializing in the process.

They soon reached a table that had a few neat rows of numerous small, white candles placed on it, along with a matchbox. Above the table, a painting of a female saint hung from the wall.

With slightly trembling fingers, Faith took a match and lit it with the flame of one of the several lit candles. She then lit a candle in the first row and took a step back to look at the painting.

A few seconds passed before Daniel walked up to Faith. "Are you okay?" he wanted to know, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"I'll be fine," she said, her eyes still on the painting.

"Are you sure? Because we can always go straight home and tell Carl and Leah we can't make it."

"No, they've been expecting us for weeks." Faith finally turned to look at Daniel. "I'll be just fine, I promise." She smiled tremulously. "At least now I know what sin to confess next Friday."

The third memory link appeared, and the last one was found within the candle Faith just lit. After breaking the barrier around the memento—the painting on the wall—Eva took a moment to inspect the picture.

On a tan-colored background bordered with red, the saint stood with her face framed by a light orange sun. Her solemn brown eyes were set below equally brown brows, her head was wrapped in a white head covering of some sort, and her wavy brown hair brushed her shoulders. The saint wore a flowing green garment beneath what looked like a white scarf draped around her shoulders. In her right hand, she held a silver cross, and in her left was a long green herb.

"I wonder who this saint is," Eva said out loud.

"Don't expect me to know," Neil answered. "I can't tell the Virgin Mary from Santa Claus."

Without another word, Eva prepared and activated the memento.

* * *

They found themselves standing next to an exam table in a doctor's office. The teenaged Faith sat in a chair against the far right wall, and beside her, a static doctor was seated behind a desk. The only items on the desk were an old-fashioned black telephone and a pot of yellow calla lilies, red gladiolas, and white carnations. The painting of the saint neither Neil nor Eva knew the name of hung from the wall beyond the desk.

"So, there really is something wrong with me, isn't there?" Faith asked, though from her tone of voice, it wasn't really a question.

"I'm afraid so," the doctor said. "The results of your pelvic exam and blood test show that you have polycystic ovary syndrome. It explains why your menstrual cycle has been so irregular over the past few years."

Neil groaned. "Oh, dear _Lord_. Don't tell me we're gonna have to watch a miscarriage memory." Their client having a faulty reproductive system could only mean one thing—lots of emotional crap ahead. That was going to be awkward. And depressing. But mostly awkward.

Eva shushed him, and meanwhile, Faith was shaking her head. "And here I was thinking it was just stress."

"In addition, your ovaries have developed a lot of follicles," the doctor went on, "so you're not ovulating regularly. Needless to say, you're going to have a hard time conceiving without treatment."

Faith was silent a moment before a small smile tugged at her lips. "I guess it's a good thing I didn't plan on getting pregnant out of high school, then." Her weak attempt at a smile faded. "What can I do about my period?"

"I would prescribe taking progestin for ten to fourteen days every month or two. It'll help in regulating your periods."

"I can't believe we wasted a minute of our lives listening to that," Neil said as soon as they got the first memory link.

"I can't believe you wasted ten seconds saying that," Eva retorted.

The rest of the memory links were collected from the exam table, Faith, the doctor, and the painting. To Neil's complete lack of surprise, the memento was, once again, the flowers.

"Y'know," he commented after the barrier was broken, "if that wasn't our ticket out of here, I'd eat my hat."

Eva raised an eyebrow at him. "Don't you mean your helmet?"

Neil shrugged. "Eh, same difference."

And with that witty banter out of the way, the memento was prepared and activated.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Oh, would you look at that? It only took me about three months to update. Go, me!

Since _Impostor Factory_ will be released pretty soon, I'll be taking a break from "Parenthood" until I've had the chance to buy and play the new game. But that doesn't mean I'll be taking a break from writing altogether—I have more _To the Moon_ one-shots in store! In any case, I'll see y'all next time. :)


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